Room-maid(40)

I was confused. “That Oksana’s hot? I think he knows.”

“No, that you think he’s hot. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“Um, he could hear me when I say it? You seem to forget that he has a girlfriend who is currently making him soup. What can we do?”

She chose to misunderstand me. “That’s the spirit! What can we do?”

“Nothing. I’m going to go. I need to vacuum.”

“Spoilsport. I’m going to think of a good way to find out her last name. I’ll call you back when I have an idea.”

I hung up my phone and slid it back into my pocket. “Pigeon, vacuum.” I always tried to warn her first, and she went running by me, into my room and presumably under my bed.

I’d gotten really good at vacuuming since I did it so frequently. I’d spent my last few evenings trying to create poms and failing miserably. I’d already had to replace two packages of tissue paper. At first they looked like giant garbage balls of tissue or a deranged loofah. Then they were squished, as if someone had sat on them, or flopping over too much on the top, like a dead fish.

After watching multiple tutorials I realized that I was making several mistakes, which included making the accordion folds too big and the wire in the center too tight. I learned how to round the corners and now they were sort of resembling the right shape. I had five that I thought weren’t too bad.

This also meant that there were tissue paper slivers everywhere all the time, hence the vacuuming.

Of all my chores, so far vacuuming was my favorite. Barring the Sock Incident, the Penny Episode, and the other time that involved hoovering up the cord from the blinds, I had been doing well. I hadn’t had to replace the vacuum yet, so I was putting that in the win category. It made me feel accomplished to witness the dirt container filling up. I could actually see my success. It wasn’t the same with something like washing counters. I felt like they generally looked the same after I was done.

Although maybe that was an indication that I wasn’t doing it right.

I went down the hallway and stopped where it met the kitchen and living room. Usually I’d go in and do the front room, too, but I sort of didn’t want to go in there at the moment. So I decided, even though I didn’t need to, to vacuum Tyler’s room. Since he was coming home tonight I thought it would be a nice surprise while also being a way for me to avoid being in the same room as Oksana. Win-win.

Tyler’s room was done in dark blues and grays that felt masculine and relaxing. I made sure to avoid the sheets and blankets on his bed so as to not add to my list of vacuum-related issues, and made my way over to his bathroom.

As I passed his walk-in closet I felt the urge to stop and investigate. I turned the vacuum off. When I opened the door, I was immediately hit with his distinct and amazing scent that probably could have lured me to my death like those moths Delia had told us about.

Glancing over my shoulder, I said a quick prayer that Oksana wouldn’t catch me. The first thing I noticed was that Tyler was a secret slob. While he had an extensive collection of ties and suits hanging up, the floor of his closet was covered in clothes. Like the dryer had thrown up in here. Since I worked with second graders and tended to be messy myself, I ignored it as I stepped into the closet. Considering he was currently on a business trip, it was surprising how many things were still here. He had a wardrobe almost big enough to rival mine. Or, my old wardrobe back when I could buy whatever clothes I wanted without considering the cost. I was running my index finger down the length of an expensive blue silk tie that I’d seen on him before, one that made his eyes look even lighter and more piercing, when my phone rang.

The sound shocked me and I rushed out of his closet, like whoever was calling could see what I was doing.

It was Shay.

I swiped to answer. “Shay! You just scared the bejeebers out of me.”

“What are you doing?” She sounded suspicious (rightfully so). Was her Spidey-sense tingling or something?

I was too flustered to come up with even a white lie. “I’m being creepy and going through Tyler’s closet.”

“Oh.” She waited a beat before saying, “You should go through his drawers, too.”

“What?”

“I mean, if you’re going to violate his personal space, you might as well go all the way. And describe it to me, woman with no boundaries.”

Laughing, I said, “The no-boundaries thing is not my fault. I didn’t have personal space growing up.” There was always a bunch of people coming in and out of my room to clean up or put something away or tell me my parents wanted to speak with me so that they could let me know all the ways I was disappointing them. “I blame my parents.”

“I blame your parents for lots of things. Climate change, trouble in the Middle East, why men don’t ask me on second dates.”

“Mine is blaming them for me being emotionally stunted. But Tyler should have his privacy. I’m leaving his room now.”

“Are you really choosing now of all times to be mature and respectful?” she asked.

I walked across the hall into my own room and set the vacuum down near my dresser. Pigeon intuited that I planned on cleaning up in here next, and she took off. I asked, “Did you ever consider that maybe this goes against my moral code?”

“And here I thought your morals weren’t up to code.”